


Please Don’t Tap The Glass

by infinite_on_high



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, everything turns out okay dont worry, monster!pete, theres some mildly disturbing stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_on_high/pseuds/infinite_on_high
Summary: Pete is a monster. He was made with sharp claws and huge teeth and he was specifically designed to hurt people. Of course, hurting people is the last thing he wants to do, especially after he meets Patrick.





	Please Don’t Tap The Glass

Pete was a monster. He was one of many monsters, in fact, created by a company to be perfect tools of violence. These kids could look sweet and adorable and innocent one moment, and then jump on an enemy person or creature and tear them to pieces the next. Pete was one of their greatest creations yet: he had huge, sharp teeth that he could easily retract into his mouth, and long, glittering claws that he could pull back into the flesh of his hand. His eyes were modified such that he could see in the dark, and they shimmered with golden flecks. Without his monstrous teeth or claws, he looked just like a normal kid, and a cute kid at that. But that didn’t change the fact that underneath his sparkling eyes and soft hair and government-issued dress pants and shirt, he was a horrible monster built only to hurt people.

That weighed on Pete, and one night he decided he just couldn’t take it anymore.

The employees sent to bring him his breakfast the next morning found him lying in bed, wide awake, crying to himself. There were claw marks etched into his wall, some just random and some that spelled out “I am a monster” over and over again. His hands were bloodied, and appeared to have been bitten up by something, as if the boy had tried to chew his own fingers off.

“Great. This one’s defective too,” someone mumbled. “Take it to the chambers, we’ll get some employee’s kid to deal with it.” As was standard procedure for every monster kid that was deemed unqualified for whatever reason, he would be taken down to one of the lower floors of the testing facility. The testing chambers.

See, the company didn’t perform any tests on their active monsters at the risk of harming them. But any “defective” monster was useless to them except for testing purposes, and so they had no problem hurting or even killing those kids in order to further their research. The defective monsters were cared for mostly by interns, low-level staff, and the children of several employees, considering the higher-up employees had better things to do.

Two employees dragged Pete out of his room by the collar of his baby-blue pajamas. They never told him where they were taking him or why or what would happen to him. Pete screamed and cried; he didn’t want to go, they’d surely kill him. Maybe he deserved it, being the monster he was, but the idea still wasn’t too appealing. At least he slid easily on the tile floor, and didn’t get major rug burns as they unceremoniously pulled him down the hall, into an elevator, down a few more halls, and into a glass cage like the kind they keep animals in at zoos. They shut the door behind them and left Pete sitting in the transparent prison.

This cell was unlike Pete’s former room in that it was much smaller, had a gross-looking rug with the texture of an old beach towel in the middle rather than soft carpet all over the floor, and instead of a big, soft, double bed there was a small mattress on the floor that would only be slightly more comfortable to sleep on than a dog bed. Pete was lucky he was so small, as the mattress definitely wasn’t designed for anyone much bigger than him. There were very few things in the room to serve as entertainment; in fact, the only shelf in the room had only a Rubix cube with its colored stickers peeling off, a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle with a picture of a kitten on it in a box so beaten up that the kitten looked more like a creature from hell, and a few old books with generic-looking covers and barely-legible titles. Clearly Pete was not the first child to be held in this room, and whoever maintained it didn’t really care much about whether he was enjoying his time there. The final item on the shelf was a device with a big red button on top that said “Help”. A post-it note attached to the button instructed Pete that the button was to be used if he needed to be let out of his cage for a bathroom break, or if he was feeling ill, or if there was some other emergency. The word “emergency” was underlined several times, perhaps implying that this button wasn’t to be overused. So, of course, Pete decided against pressing it just so he could ask someone what the fuck was going on.

Without anything really interesting to do, Pete grabbed the Rubix cube off the shelf and started mindlessly spinning the different panels. He’d never been good at Rubix cubes, in fact he’d only ever tried one which he’d messed with for about ten minutes before getting bored and doing something else. This cube was a similar story, except Pete abandoned it even sooner after realizing that spinning the cube around was making the injuries on his hands hurt even more. Pete wasn’t sure why he’d felt it was a good idea to try and chew off his claws. He had gnawed at his hands for nearly half an hour before the pain became too much and he gave up. There was no way he could remove those horrible claws, and even if he did he’d still have those teeth, and he’d still be a monster. Sure, he could hide the monstrous aspects of himself when he wanted, but they were still there under his skin.

Pete grabbed a book off the shelf. He chose it purely based on its color-a gentle shade of forest green-considering the cover was so damaged he couldn’t read the title. Turns out it was a book of fairytales. It must have been quite old as well, considering most of the stories within were disturbing and violent and had weird old-fashioned morals about always obeying authority no matter what and about how outsiders were bad and evil. One story involved a monster coming to a village disguised as a man. The villagers had accepted him at first, not knowing what he truly was, until he had kidnapped and tortured a child. Afterwards, the rest of the villagers had ganged up on the monster and murdered him. Pete had to stop reading the book after that. It was making him feel sick to his stomach. Why had the staff of this building put a book like that in his cage? Did they think he was like the monster-man in the story, a cruel and evil boy who would kidnap and torture small children without a second thought?

Pete sat on the tiny bed in the corner of his room and cried. He didn’t want to be a monster, really, he didn’t. All he wanted was to just be a normal boy, but that was impossible. Because he was created to hurt, and so that was all he could ever do.

There was a knock on the door of his glass prison. Pete hid his face in the thin sheets of his tiny bed. Whoever was at the door, he couldn’t face them. His room was made of glass, and the person or people outside could definitely see him crying, but it was too late to change that. Really, he just didn’t want to have to talk anyone. He didn’t want to face anyone after the incident that morning, when they’d found him sobbing and bloody in his old bed. Pete already missed that bed. It was so much softer and comfortable. He wanted to go back, but he’d lost that ability when he’d snapped and realized he didn’t want to live out his purpose as a tool used to hurt people.

The door to his room swung open; it hadn’t even been locked. Standing there was a man in a lab coat and a kid who looked about the same age as Pete. Except Pete could tell just by looking at him that this kid wasn’t a monster. He was beautiful, and perfect, and everything Pete wished he could be. His hair was soft and dark blonde and fell almost to his shoulders, his cheeks were pink and soft, he had rectangular eyeglasses that fit perfectly around his blue-green eyes, and his clothes were neat and formal and just a bit too tight.

“Pete,” the man in the lab coat addressed him, a twinge of disgust in his voice. “I’d like you to meet Patrick.”

Pete would have liked to meet Patrick, but he would have much rather stayed hidden under the ratty old sheets. He didn’t want Patrick to see him with his messy dark hair and his blue flannel pajamas and his wild, monstrous eyes. It would make a terrible first impression. Still, Pete had no other choice. He reluctantly climbed out of bed and went to greet the other boy.

“You don’t look like a monster,” Patrick commented in a soft, gentle voice. “You just look like a boy.”

Pete was surprised by this. Even though he was hiding his claws and teeth at that moment, he still felt like a monster. But apparently Patrick couldn’t see that. That was good, Pete thought.

“Why are you here?” Pete asked.

“He’s here to play with you. Be your friend,” the lab coat man explained. “Mostly it's to make sure you don’t snap again and start tearing apart the whole facility.”

Patrick looked scared at that comment. Pete didn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be afraid of a creature capable of destroying an entire building on its own?

“Don’t worry,” the man said, laughing unfittingly. “Pete isn’t dangerous. At least, not to you. Now, you two go play. I’ll be back to pick Patrick up in a couple hours.”

The man gently shoved Patrick into the glass room, then left and closed the door behind him. Patrick looked back, even trying the doorknob to see if it could open. It was locked.

“Please don’t be scared,” Pete told him. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. That’s why I destroyed my old room. I was mad that my only purpose was to hurt people.”

“I know,” Patrick said. “It’s okay. But like… why are you here? Why did they move you to this place?”

“Because I’m useless now,” Pete explained flatly. “This is where they send useless monsters.”

“Oh. That sucks.” Patrick tried to be sympathetic, but it wasn’t easy. He didn’t really know what it was like to be a monster, to feel useless, to be cast out of your home and into a glass prison cell with only a tiny cot to sleep on and some old broken toys to play with. Patrick’s father was one of the higher-ups at the company, meaning his life so far had been spent in a nice big house with fancy new toys and, best of all, plenty of people who loved him. Which was obviously something Pete didn’t have.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to it,” Pete said.

“Do you have a family?” Patrick asked.

“No. I’ve lived here my whole life. There was the woman who taught me how to read and write and stuff, but she was the only person I ever got to know at all. And I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“So… no one’s ever loved you?”

“I mean, how could they? No one loves a monster.”

Patrick sat down next to Pete on the tiny bed. There was barely enough room for the two of them to sit side by side. Patrick stared down at his shoes. He couldn’t imagine how that felt. To be unlovable.

“What makes you think you’re a monster?” Patrick asked. He was trying to stay positive. Of course Pete was a monster. That was why he was created, for fuck’s sake. But that didn’t mean he had to be one.

“Look at me.” Pete slowly pushed out his claws and teeth. They made an uncomfortable fleshy noise as they emerged from his skin, like sticking your fingers in jello. It didn’t hurt, but it sounded like it should have.

“Gross,” Patrick said, which Pete had expected. However, Patrick wasn’t acting like Pete had expected him to. He was smiling, and eyeing Pete’s teeth and claws as if they were made of gold.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asked. “Are you scared?”

“No,” Patrick replied. “I like how they look on you. You really suit them.”

Pete laughed, thinking Patrick was joking. “Still,” he said. “I’d rather not have them.”

With that, he pulled the claws and teeth back into his skin with a similar squishing noise. 

“Suit yourself,” Patrick said with a shrug.

Pete sat silently for a moment before he spoke again.

“How does it feel?” he asked. “How does it feel to be loved? How does it feel to know that your purpose in life isn’t killing and maiming people? How does it feel?”

“It’s good,” Patrick told him. “You know, you can feel like that now. If the company isn’t using you anymore, you don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“But still. Will anyone love me?”

“I don’t know. Eventually. Maybe a family will come and adopt you, or something like that.”

“I really don’t think that’s how this works. Besides, why can’t you love me?”

“Well… that would be weird. You’re not my family, and we’re not dating-“

“Dating?” Pete interrupted, sounding confused.

Patrick let out a long, heavy sigh. “You see, when two people-“

Pete started laughing, cutting Patrick off. “I know what dating is,” Pete told him. “I’ve seen movies.”

Patrick laughed too. “You got me. That was good.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed. Then his face turned somber again. “Still, I don’t understand why you can’t love me. It’s not like anyone else I meet ever will. Everyone else either thinks I’m a monster or isn’t ever going to meet me.”

“That would be weird,” Patrick explained. “I mean, we just met.”

“Someday?” Pete suggested.

“Yeah. Maybe someday. And if it’s not me, you’ll find someone.”

“I hope so.”

Patrick looked at his watch. He still had to spend at least another hour and a half with Pete, which he really didn’t want to do. Spending time with Pete was getting depressing.

“So what do you want to do?” Patrick asked. “We’ve still got a while before I have to leave.”

“There really isn’t much to do in here,” Pete told him. “Unless you like half-destroyed books and broken puzzles.”

“We could tear pages out of the books and make paper airplanes out of them,” Patrick suggested.

“I don’t know how to make paper airplanes,” Pete said. “Besides, wouldn’t people get angry at us for tearing apart the books?”

“Those books are so beat up already, no one would even notice a few pages missing. Besides, even if they did, this place definitely has the money to replace a couple books. It’s not like they’re spending a lot of money taking care of all the kids. Look at you. You’re not even wearing real clothes.”

Pete looked at his pajamas, which he hadn’t been able to change out of since he’d been forcibly ejected from his room. “I have real clothes,” Pete said defensively. “I have a nice outfit somewhere, I just haven’t been able to change into it yet.”

“You’re not going to get to change into it, you know,” Patrick told him. “Don’t you get it? They don’t have to take care of you anymore. Your old clothes have probably been burned already, or handed down to some new monster kid.”

“I guess you’re right,” Pete agreed. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and Patrick regretted saying all of that.

“Look, just because they don’t care doesn’t mean they shouldn’t care. You seem like a cool guy. Let’s make some paper airplanes, alright? I’ll teach you.”

Pete smiled. He grabbed the book of fairy tales he had been reading earlier and eagerly ripped out a few pages. Destroying that book felt good, and Pete almost wanted to rip out every single page because of how awful it was. Patrick showed him how to fold the pages into little airplanes and make them fly across the room. Even though Pete wasn’t very good at making the paper airplanes, and there was barely enough space to throw them in the tiny glass room, he still loved making them. Pretty soon, Pete and Patrick were laughing and joyfully throwing the paper airplanes around. It was an entire new feeling for Pete, considering he’d never had a friend before. He wished Patrick could stay with him forever, but eventually the man in the lab coat returned and Patrick had to leave.

“Will you be back?” Pete asked, a pleading look on his face.

“Sure,” said the man in the lab coat. “Patrick will be back in a few days. In the meantime, you be a good monster, alright?”

“Okay,” Pete agreed. He didn’t like being called a monster, but he figured he had to listen to the man or Patrick wouldn’t come back.

With that, Patrick and the man left the room. The man locked the door behind him, and Patrick waved goodbye to Pete. Pete was left alone in his glass prison once again, and he found himself already missing Patrick. He tried to make a few paper airplanes by himself, but it just wasn’t the same without Patrick. Besides, he couldn’t even fold them without Patrick there to help him, so it was hopeless.

Instead, Pete laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a real ceiling, not a glass ceiling, since his cage went all the way from the floor to the ceiling of the large room it was contained in. There were other cages in the room, but they were too far away for Pete to clearly see the kids inside of them. Pete tried to sleep, but he just wasn’t tired. This cage was sucking the life out of him, and he hated it. He started tearing more pages out of the fairytale book just out of boredom, which was okay at first until he saw the sea of pages strewn about on the floor and realized the damage he’d caused. The book was almost empty, which was saying something considering it had had hundreds of pages before Pete had started ripping them out. And no matter how much Pete tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything because books aren’t people and he hadn’t actually hurt anyone, it still felt like he was giving in to his intended purpose. Destruction, chaos, violence.

He scooped up the loose pages from the floor and desperately tried to pile them up and put them back into the book. It didn’t matter that they weren’t in the right order; there was no way Pete would ever be able to put them in the right order anyway, so there wasn’t any point in trying. Pete shoved the destroyed book back onto the shelf, hoping no one would ever realize it was broken.

As Pete sat on the floor, staring at the book on the shelf and thinking about what had just happened, he heard a knock on the door. He whipped his head around and saw a man in a lab coat standing outside his room. It wasn’t the same man who had brought Patrick to Pete’s cage earlier, but he looked very similar. The man held a paper plate in one hand and a plastic cup in the other. He set down the cup briefly so he could unlock Pete’s door, and Pete saw that it was full of water. Pete couldn’t tell what was on the plate, as the man was holding it high above Pete’s head.

The man entered Pete’s room, and slid the plate and cup in Pete’s direction. Pete could tell the man was keeping his distance, and really, Pete didn’t blame him. He’d probably been trained to believe that Pete and his fellow monster kids would attack him if he got too close. Of course, Pete would never do that, but he couldn’t help what people said about him. After giving Pete the meal, the man backed up towards the door, but didn’t leave.

“What are you going to do, watch me eat?” Pete asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’ve been instructed to wait until you finish eating so I can collect your dishes afterwards,” the man explained.

“But these dishes are paper and plastic,” Pete argued. “You’re just going to throw them away. Can’t I have them? Please, there’s nothing to do in here.” Of course, Pete didn’t care about the dishes. All he wanted was for the man to leave.

“No,” the man said firmly. “Now eat. I haven’t got all day.”

Pete reluctantly started on the meal. It was nothing like the delicious food he’d been given back when he was useful. This meal consisted of mashed potatoes that were a disturbing shade of gray, green mush that Pete supposed was some kind of vegetable, and an exceptionally chewy hunk of meat that didn’t look or taste like any kind of meat Pete had ever seen before.

“What is this, anyway?” Pete asked, pointing his plastic fork at the mystery meat. “Is this what happens to all the monsters once you’re done experimenting on us?”

The man shook his head and sighed. “It’s just chicken, alright? Now eat it so I can leave, alright?”

Pete finished the entire meal, although he seriously doubted the man’s claim that the meat was chicken. The man took the plate and cup away and left Pete’s room without even saying goodbye.

The thought that Pete had possibly just eaten part of one of his fellow monsters was making his stomach churn, but he tried to convince himself that the meat really was just chicken. Or, if it was indeed human, at least that kid had been dead before Pete had eaten it. At least he hadn’t actually killed someone.

Pete stayed sitting on the floor for a while, trying to figure out how to feel. Everything about his situation was fucked up. Everything about that day was fucked up. Little did Pete know, it was about to get even worse.

When he heard another knock at the door, he figured his time had come. He figured they were going to take him out back, shoot him in the head, and serve him up to some other unsuspecting kids. In reality, what he was about to endure was somehow more horrible, and afterwards he’d wished it had been as easy as just a bullet to the head.

The person who had knocked on the door this time was a woman, although she wore the same attire as the previous two adults who had visited Pete. She also wore a tool belt of sorts, which Pete could only imagine was full of instruments to be used for keeping him in line. He really didn’t understand why everyone was acting as if he’d try to murder them at any moment. Sure, he could have, but that didn’t mean he wanted to.

“Pete! Let’s go!” she shouted, her voice sharp and demanding.

“Go where?” Pete asked, trying not to let his fear show.

“Testing,” the woman told him. “Get up, let’s go.”

“What?” Pete said, confused. However, he got up and followed the woman anyway for fear of whatever kind of painful objects she happened to have on hand.

Pete followed her through a maze of brightly lit white hallways and stairwells, past several rooms which he could only imagine were being used for this so-called “testing”, and into a room of his own. He wasn’t sure if the lack of screaming made him more scared or less scared.

Inside the testing room was a hospital bed with various machines and devices set up next to it. Pete almost felt excited, as he hadn’t seen a bed that looked so comfortable since he’d been kicked out of his old room. There was a whole team of people wearing surgical outfits standing around the bed, and they instructed Pete to lie down. Pete did so carefully, climbing in as slowly as possible and gently resting his head on the pillow. He was just about to actually get comfortable when he felt the sudden jab of a needle in his arm.

Pete tried to scream, but found he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move. All he could do was lie there and watch in horror as a milky liquid dripped from a tube into his arm. To his horror, he felt his claws and teeth emerge from his flesh. The team of doctors gathered around him, staring into his eyes with absolutely emotionless looks on their faces. Despite not being able to move or speak, Pete could still feel everything. He felt an exceptionally large needle stab into his arm as a doctor took some of his blood. A small wave of relief washed over Pete when he realized the blood was red: the color of human blood. Pete felt something scrape against his claws, he felt something metal in his mouth which he didn’t want to think about. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and was surprised he could still cry after being injected with whatever that liquid was. The doctors didn’t care. They just kept on poking him, prodding him, seemingly trying to figure him out. Why they needed to do this was beyond Pete, but he figured he didn’t want to know. Eventually one of the doctors brought a needle to his neck, and that was about when Pete passed out.

Pete awoke in the tiny bed in his glass cage. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Every part of him hurt from the “testing” that had been performed on him the previous night, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Just the things that had happened to him while he was conscious were painful to think about, and Pete didn’t even want to imagine what had happened to him after he’d fallen asleep. Somehow he doubted that they’d just brought him back to bed safe and sound.

The same man who had brought him dinner the previous night brought him breakfast that morning: lukewarm oatmeal and a glass of milk. Pete had to admit, it was better than the mystery meat. At least lukewarm oatmeal didn’t contain bits of dead children.

Patrick visited Pete again that day. Pete wasn’t really too excited about seeing him. All he really wanted to do was lie in bed all day and cry. Which he did, even with Patrick in the room.

“What happened to you, Pete?” Patrick asked. He was sitting on the floor next to Pete’s bed while Pete bawled his eyes out. “Did they do something to you?”

“Yes! Yes they did! They took me into a hospital room and shoved needles in my arms and-and I think they experimented on me! There might have been more horrible stuff but I passed out after one guy stabbed me in the neck with a syringe. It was horrible, Patrick. I don’t want to go back there. You have to help me.”

“I’m sorry, Pete. I can’t help you. I wish I could.”

“Isn’t your dad, like, the president of this company? Can’t you ask him to make them stop?”

“My dad isn’t the president, he’s just one of the executives. And besides, he wouldn’t listen to me if I told him to make the people stop torturing you. Even if he could change something he’d just say I was being dramatic.”

“But-but they’re killing kids! They’re killing kids and feeding them to the rest of us! Why doesn’t anyone care?”

Patrick was especially shocked by this. “What do you mean?”

“They serve us meat, and they say it’s chicken, but I know it’s not. It’s dead kids, it just has to be.”

“You really think they’d do something like that?”

Pete looked at Patrick, his expression dead-serious. “Yes.”

“Gosh, that’s… that’s messed up. I really wish there was something I could do.”

“Can’t you talk to someone?”

“I mean, I could, but they’d just deny it. I wish I could help you, Pete, I really do.”

Pete hugged his knees to his chest and cried. “I don’t want them to hurt me,” he sobbed, half to himself.

“Don’t worry,” Patrick said, although Pete was right to worry. “I’ll do my best to protect you. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Now, do you still have that book? We can make more paper airplanes.”

Pete grabbed the book off the shelf and took out a few of the already torn-out pages. The two of them started folding the planes, and Pete was able to make a few with Patrick’s help. His hands still hurt quite a bit from the previous night; he figured they’d done something to his claws. He wished they’d just removed them. Everything would have been a whole lot easier that way.

“So what’s it like not living in a cage all the time?” Pete asked.

“It’s nice,” Patrick said. “I have all kinds of toys and stuff. And my food probably isn’t made from dead children. But I mean, it’s not perfect. I have to go to school, and my dad gets mad at me when my grades aren’t good enough because he wants me to take his job one day.”

“What about your mom? What does she do?”

“Oh, I don’t have a mom.”

“But… doesn’t everyone have a mom?”

“Well, I did, but she died when I was little. She got really sick. I miss her, but I wasn’t quite old enough at the time to remember anything about her.”

“That’s so sad!”

“Yeah, but what about you? You don’t have parents at all.”

“I like to think I do. When I was little and I still lived in my nice room, I’d look at pictures of people in magazines and think about which ones were most likely to be my parents. Of course, it was probably none of them. But it was a fun game I had.”

“I mean, you take what you can get, I guess.”

“Yup.”

“Do you ever wish you knew your parents?”

Pete thought about that for a minute. “No,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s two more people I’d wind up hurting.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know I’m going to hurt everyone I get close to. That’s just how I was made.”

“No. No you aren’t. At least, you aren’t going to hurt me. I know that.”

“How?”

“I just feel it. You’re not going to hurt me. You wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“But still. They keep me in this cage for a reason.”

“Well… they’re wrong about you. You’re just a kid. Like me. Sure, you have claws and stuff, but everyone’s got their thing, I guess.”

“That’s not just a little quirk though. I mean, there’s wearing glasses, and then there’s the ability to kill someone with your bare hands. Not exactly the same thing.”

“Look, one day I’ll take my dad’s position in this company. And when I do, I’ll make sure they treat kids like you better, okay? I’ll make sure they stop feeding you dead children, I’ll make sure they stop experimenting on you, and I’ll make sure there’s a way to get rid of your claws and teeth so you can’t hurt people.”

“But until then?”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

Pete dropped the paper airplane in his hand. He didn’t really feel like doing anything. What was the point of having fun like a normal kid when he’d have to spend his childhood trapped in a cage worrying about accidentally murdering someone?

“Pete?” Patrick asked, regaining the boy’s attention. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“N-no,” Pete told him. “I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s just that I’m… tired.”

“That’s okay,” Patrick said. “I’ll call my dad to come pick me up.” Patrick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Wait, no, don’t do that. I want you to stay.”

“Okay then, I guess.”

And so Patrick sat next to Pete on the floor for what felt like hours. He couldn’t bring himself to start browsing the internet on his phone or folding more paper airplanes or even trying to solve the broken Rubix cube on the shelf. It would have felt like he was ignoring Pete, even though Pete wasn’t doing or saying anything at all. When Patrick’s father finally came to pick him up, he stared back into Pete’s room as he left. Pete was watching him leave, a somber expression on his face.

“Please come back tomorrow,” he said quietly, his voice weak.

“Don’t worry,” Patrick told him. “I will.”

Pete saw him look to his father for confirmation. He hoped Patrick was telling the truth.

The rest of the day was more of the same. Pete stayed there, sitting on the floor of his glass prison. There was nothing better to do, after all. He started flexing his claws in and out, listening intently as they squished within his flesh. As he did so, he wondered how easy it would be to cut someone with those claws. They were very sharp, despite the fact that Pete had never even used them. This was probably due to either the experiments from the previous night, or that was just how his claws worked. It was something Pete had never really taken notice of before, but now he was curious.

He gently ran the tip of one of his claws against the skin of his own arm. To his surprise, it easily cut right through. In fact, he barely felt anything apart from a slight twinge of pain as blood began rushing from the wound. Pete quickly pulled his claws back in, and tried to figure out what to do next. He had to stop the blood, or it would get everywhere. Of course that wasn’t the biggest issue at hand.

It had been so incredibly easy for Pete to hurt himself with those horrible claws of his. He’d barely even been trying to pierce his skin, and he’d wound up drawing blood easily. That terrified him much more than the wound itself. If it was so easy to hurt himself with those claws, what would happen if he lost control and tried to hurt someone else? He could kill someone without even trying.

Pete wanted to rip those awful claws from from his hands. He knew it was hopeless; he’d already spent hours trying to chew them off with his equally horrific teeth. But it was hopeless. He was doomed to be a monster forever.

The man brought him dinner again that night. This time it was soggy mush that may have at one point been rice, more mystery meat, and a glass of water. Pete was extremely reluctant to consume the mystery meat, but he knew the man wouldn’t leave until he did, so he did so. He nearly vomited afterwards. A small part of him wondered if that meat was part of the same kid as the meat from the night before. It seemed unlikely, considering the number of other kids in glass cages who needed to eat. The kid from the previous night’s meal was probably long gone.

Pete tried to prepare himself for testing that night, but he soon found that nothing could prepare him for what went on in that little hospital room. He tried to fall asleep as soon as he was placed on the bed so he would be conscious for as little of the testing as possible. However, this was impossible. They didn’t inject him with the paralyzing white liquid this time, but rather kept poking, prodding, and eventually slapping him awake. Then someone turned out the lights, and brought forward one of the eye charts they always have in movies. You know, the ones with the big letter on top and tiny letters on the bottom. Pete could see all of this happening, given his ability to see in the dark. He was actually quite fond of that ability, considering it was useful enough and didn’t involve killing people.

“Read the chart,” demanded one of the doctors. They were hard to hear through the surgical masks, and Pete couldn’t even tell which one had spoken.

Pete stared at the chart in front of the bed and started listing off the letters. He heard the gentle scrape of pen on paper as someone in the room took notes, along with a soft clattering that he couldn’t quite identify.

Then he felt a needle stab into his arm, which was less surprising than it should have been, but still hurt a lot. His vision blurred, and darkened. He saw someone flip the chart to a different page.

“Again,” someone instructed. Pete read the letters from the new page. It was hard, considering whatever drug was in that syringe had altered his vision a whole lot. His sight got worse and worse as the test went on, and eventually he could barely see the top letter of the chart.

Then someone turned the light back on. It shocked Pete a whole lot, and his vision completely returned to normal. That was when it set in.

They had removed his ability to see in the dark.

“Will I get it back?” he asked.

“What?”

“Will I be able to see in the dark again?”

“We don’t know yet.”

Pete couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. They’d taken the only good monster part of him and possibly removed it forever. God, why couldn’t it have been his teeth or his claws? Why would they take away his helpful traits but leave him with the ability to murder?

Just then, a doctor grabbed his arm and held it up. She pointed at the gash on it accusingly.

“What is this?”

“It was an accident,” Pete lied.

“How?”

“I accidentally hit the shelf in my room today. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright.” She didn’t seem convinced. “Anyways, you’re done with testing for tonight, so I’m going to walk you back to your room.”

Pete got out of the hospital bed and followed the doctor down the maze of hallways and stairwells back to his room. When he returned, he got into bed and tried to sleep, but found it difficult. He found himself wishing they’d injected him with whatever they had the first night. At least then he would have been able to sleep.

Well, Pete did manage to get to sleep, it just took a very long time. He wasn’t used to total darkness, considering he’d always been able to rely on his night vision. However, he no longer was able to see in the dark due to whatever the doctors had injected him with, and he was faced with the terrifying void of night. It was almost funny to him. Pete was a monster capable of killing someone in seconds, and yet he was afraid of the dark.

The days that followed were very similar to the first two. Every day Pete was fed two meals, one with the mystery meat and one without. He was brought to the testing chambers at night and injected with things that did everything from just knocking him out to making him unnecessarily angry to causing him to hallucinate colored lights all around the room. Pete began to wonder if they were really concerned about the characteristics of monsters or if they were just testing out experimental drugs on him. Really, it wouldn’t be surprising.

Of course, the best part of his day was always his visit from Patrick. The two of them would hang out for a couple of hours every day, during which they would either tear out and fold pages from the books, or talk to each other about whatever was on their minds. Usually it was Patrick that did most of the talking, considering Pete’s life wasn’t very interesting.

Patrick, on the other hand, seemed to have a very interesting life. He told Pete all about the strange events that occurred at his school and at home with his father. School seemed interesting to Pete. According to what his teacher had told him when he was little, school was a place where most kids went so they could learn. However, Patrick told Pete about how kids were finding boyfriends and girlfriends and going on dates, and how there was a dance coming up. Pete felt himself getting jealous of those kids. He wanted to fall in love with someone, to take them on a date or to a dance, to kiss them and tell them he loved them. The strangest thing though was that Pete imagined doing all those things with Patrick.

Did he love Patrick?

Pete spent some time thinking about that. Sure, he’d barely known Patrick for more than a month. Then again, he’d never actually loved someone before, so how would he know how long it took to fall in love? All Pete knew was that he wanted to be with Patrick, that he wanted to kiss Patrick, that he wanted Patrick to be the one to rescue him from this place. Maybe that wasn’t exactly love, but Pete liked to think it was.

One day, Patrick was once again talking to Pete about the other kids going on dates, and about how there was a school dance coming up, and Pete decided to ask him something.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“No, not yet,” Patrick said sadly.

“Would you want to?”

“I guess so. Why?”

Pete’s hands shook. “Well… I think… I love you.”

“What?” Patrick looked alarmed.

“I want to go on a date with you, if that’s even possible. I want to dance with you. I want to kiss you. You’re cute and interesting and you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. And I know I haven’t met very many people, but that’s still something.”

“No, no, no. I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t date you.”

“Why?”

“Because… I just can’t. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do you at least love me?”

“Well, not like that.”

Pete’s eyes filled with tears. Not only had he never loved someone before, he’d also never had someone he loved not love him back. He hadn’t imagined it would hurt that much.

“But why?”

“Look, Pete, it just wouldn’t work.”

“How?”

“I’m not supposed to love you, okay? I’m supposed to keep you entertained until you die in this place. Which, by the way, you will. So there’s no point in me loving you. I’d just wind up heartbroken, and there’d be nothing in it for you anyway. You don’t need me to love you.”

Pete had already figured out he was going to die in the facility, but somehow hearing it from Patrick made it so much worse.

“I do need you to love me! Please? You can help me get out of here!”

“No, Pete. Just forget it, alright?”

“No!” Pete was full-on screaming at this point. “I’ve spent my whole life without anyone who loved me! You’re the only one who could actually care about me, why don’t you love me? Why don’t you love me, Patrick? Why?” His monster teeth were bared in his mouth, which had happened without him even realizing. It terrified Patrick, who backed away from Pete.

“I just can’t!” he insisted, holding his hand out in front of him for what little protection it would provide.

“Please, Patrick!” Pete kept walking towards him. “I need you!” His voice sounded more like a hiss or a growl through his huge teeth, and there were tears streaming down his face.

“No, Pete! I’m sorry! Just get away!”

And with those words, Pete flew backwards and slammed into the glass wall. The entire room vibrated, and the force of the impact caused Pete’s teeth to pierce his own skin. This made him realize they had come out, and he quickly pulled him back in. Pete looked up at Patrick with big, damp eyes.

“You… you hurt me.” His voice was soft and quiet, but somehow still angry.

“I… I didn’t know I could do that,” Patrick said, staring at him. “I’m sorry.”

“You hurt me!” Pete repeated, once again shouting. His teeth and claws shot out without him even having to think about it, and before he even realized what he was doing, he stood up and lunged at Patrick. He felt flesh rip beneath his claws as they came in contact with Patrick’s face. Patrick screamed and ran backwards into the bookshelf. He grabbed the largest book and held it in front of his face, hoping to protect himself from Pete. Blood rushed down his face, and he couldn’t see out of his right eye. Pete struck him a few more times, slicing both his chest and his left arm. It hurt like hell.

Then Patrick remembered his newfound power that had caused this mess in the first place. He held up his damaged left arm, still grasping the book in his right.

“Get away! Get away from me!” he screamed. Once again, Pete flew backwards into the glass. Patrick turned to face the bookshelf, knowing he had little time before Pete got up again. He saw the red “Help” button, and quickly pressed it. Then he turned back towards Pete, holding the book out and preparing himself for a new onslaught of claws and teeth.

To his surprise, Pete stayed slumped over next to the glass. For a second Patrick was scared he’d killed him, until he saw his chest rising and falling unsteadily.

Pete looked at Patrick. He stared in horror at the bloody mess that was the boy he loved. Blood had matted in Patrick’s long blonde hair, and huge bloody gashes crossed his face and chest, tearing through his shirt and obscuring his right eye. His left arm was covered in scratches and hung loosely at his side. It was disgusting. Pete was ashamed of what he’d done to Patrick, and he started crying again.

“I’m sorry,” he whined. “I’m sorry I did this to you. I’m so sorry.”

Patrick said nothing. He heard the sound of quick footsteps outside the room, and soon afterwards a team of people wearing what looked to be some kind of body armor along with Patrick’s father rushed into the room. The armored people cautiously walked over to Pete and grabbed onto him with huge, gloved hands. They carried him out with ease, as Pete seemed to have no desire to escape their grip. Patrick’s father practically sprinted over to him once Pete had been removed.

“Oh my god,” he said, his hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, what did it do to you?”

“What?” Patrick stammered.

“The monster. It attacked you, didn’t it?”

“Pete?”

“Yes. Damn it, why do we name those things?” Patrick’s father sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I’m taking you to the hospital. Can you walk?”

Patrick nodded.

His father insisted on holding Patrick’s hand as they walked to the hospital, which turned out to just be another floor of the building. It occurred to Patrick briefly that the hospital had likely been built for situations just like this.

Patrick’s father lead him to the hospital bed and told him to lie down. Of course, Patrick happily complied. The injuries Pete had given to him still hurt a lot, and all Patrick wanted to do was go to sleep and forget everything that had just happened. Soon enough, he actually did so.

When Patrick awoke, he saw that his left arm was wrapped in bandages, and he still couldn’t see out of one eye. His chest and half of his face still stung quite a bit, and when he reached up to touch his face he felt stitches holding the wound closed. He assumed it was the same case for his chest.

His father was standing next to his bed. When Patrick awoke, he smiled. It looked like a fake smile to Patrick.

“Hey there, champ,” his father said. “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Patrick mumbled. “Where’s Pete?”

“That monster? Don’t worry, we’re taking care of it.”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Look, they’re putting it down. You won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“They’re… killing him?” Patrick’s good eye started watering.

“Yes, Patrick. That’s the procedure for when a monster attacks a kid. We just can’t let that happen.”

“You’re killing my best friend,” Patrick whimpered, the truth finally setting in. “He didn’t want to hurt me. I hurt him first, anyway. He was just protecting himself. You can’t kill him!”

“We have to. It’s dangerous. It could have killed you, Patrick. I could have lost you, just like I lost your mom. Please try to understand, okay?”

“This isn’t about Mom! This is about you murdering my friend! Murdering him and then feeding him to all the other kids! And Pete is a him, by the way, not an it. He’s a person. I know you know that.”

“Patrick…”

“No! I have to save him! Tell me where he is, I have to stop them from hurting him!”

“I can’t do that. I can’t just put you in danger like that.”

Patrick was furious. He raised his good arm, held out his hand, and stared his father in the eyes.

“Get. Away.”

Patrick’s father suddenly flew backwards, slamming into the wall of the hospital room. He stared at his son, shocked but not completely surprised.

“Help me save my friend,” Patrick demanded.

“Fine. I guess I really can’t stop you, can I?”

His father slowly lead him down the halls to the room where Pete was being held. Patrick wanted to go faster, he was scared Pete would be dead by the time they got there, but his father told him if they went too fast Patrick would mess up his stitches. Patrick didn’t believe him.

Finally, they arrived at Pete’s room. Patrick grabbed the doorknob with his good hand and swung it open. Inside, a group of doctors stood around a metal table. Pete was lying there on the table, awkwardly slumped over and probably unconscious. One of the doctors was preparing some kind of syringe on a nearby countertop, and Patrick dreaded what it was for. He rushed into the room and over to the table on which Pete had been placed.

“Hey, what’s that kid doing here?” someone asked. Another person tried to grab Patrick and pull him away, but Patrick wouldn’t let them. He held out his hand and aimed it at the crowd around Pete.

“Get away from him!” Patrick shouted. The doctors flew backwards, falling to the ground away from Pete. Patrick used the opportunity to check on the state of his friend.

Pete was alive. His chest gently rose and fell, and warm breath flew out of his open mouth. His claws and teeth were also exposed, and there were droplets of blood still clinging to them. Patrick had plenty of time to remember what Pete had done to him. But he didn’t care. It wasn’t Pete’s fault, after all. Patrick had hurt him first. The whole situation made Patrick feel guilty about not telling Pete he loved him. If he had just had the courage to do that, none of this would have happened.

Really, Patrick did love Pete. That much was okay with him. Pete was the first person Patrick had ever really loved. The issue was that Patrick wasn’t allowed to love Pete. There was no point in loving Pete, because Pete was a boy with claws and fangs and a supposed lust for blood, and Patrick’s father would not approve of Patrick falling in love with someone like that. Except that didn’t matter now. All that mattered to Patrick in that moment was saving the boy he loved.

“Pete?” he whispered. “Please wake up. I’m sorry about everything.”

He looked around. To his surprise, the doctors had not gotten up again. It wasn’t that they couldn’t, they seemed perfectly fine, but it seemed like they didn’t want to interfere with what Patrick was doing. So Patrick kept talking.

“I’m sorry I thought you were a monster. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you get out of here. I’m especially sorry I didn’t tell you I love you. Because I do love you, Pete. I was just scared. I thought I would be horrible because I fell in love with a monster. Except you aren’t a monster, Pete. You’re just a boy, like me, and I care about you. And I forgive you for what you did to me. I don’t blame you. I hurt you first, and I know it. I’m so sorry. Please wake up, okay?”

Patrick half expected Pete to open his eyes right at that moment, to jump up from the table and hug him and promise to never leave him as if this was some kind of fairytale or stupid romance novel. But that didn’t happen. Pete just lied there, barely breathing, barely alive, and completely motionless. Still, Patrick wasn’t giving up that easily. He was going to wait by Pete’s side until Pete either woke up or died. Slowly the doctors began getting up and leaving the room, either because their shifts had ended or because they had other things to do. Patrick assumed his father was still waiting in the doorway, but he didn’t bother checking. All he cared about was Pete.

It felt like he had waited for days. Pete woke up slowly, carefully opening his eyes and staring at Patrick for a bit. He pulled in his claws and teeth, and then he burst into tears.

“Oh. Oh no. Oh Patrick, you…” he whimpered, hot tears streaming down his face. He reached out and gently touched the stitches on Patrick’s face.

“Pete, it’s okay. I forgive you. It was my fault anyway, okay? I love you,” Patrick said, trying desperately to reassure Pete.

“I did this to you. I ruined you. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! You shouldn’t have tried to find me.”

“Pete, they were going to kill you.”

“You should have let them. I hurt you, Patrick. I hurt the only person I loved. I don’t deserve to live.”

“Pete, believe me, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t your fault you were made to be a monster. Which you aren’t, of course.”

“If I wasn’t a monster, would I have done this to you?”

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was!”

“No. No it wasn’t. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Whatever it takes, I’m going to help you. You won’t have to go back to that horrible cage, they won’t experiment on you, you can live a normal life. It’s okay.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He sat up, slid off the table, and stood in front of Patrick. “Look, I love you so much, okay? I’m really sorry this happened. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Pete. I love you too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

The two of them made their way towards the door, which was still being blocked by Patrick’s father.

“Can we go home now?” Patrick said to him.

“Right after we take Pete back to his room,” Patrick’s father replied.

“What?” Patrick exclaimed. Pete stayed silent. “You can’t make him go back there!”

“Patrick, we have to. There’s nothing else we can do with him.”

“He can stay with us.”

“I don’t know, Patrick. That just doesn’t seem safe. I mean, look what he did to you! I couldn’t stand for you to get hurt like that again.”

“It was my fault. I hurt him first. I told him I didn’t love him and I flung him into a wall. What he did was justified, okay?”

“Fine. But if he so much as scratches you, we’re taking him back here.”

“Okay.”

Pete still didn’t like the way Patrick’s father spoke about him. Even though he had stopped calling Pete an it, he still acted like Pete was some kind of animal. Granted, that was somewhat justified considering Pete had just attacked his son, but it still made him sick to hear stuff like that.

The ride to Patrick’s house was nerve racking at first. Pete had spent his entire life in the facility, and he’d only ever seen cars in books and movies. But he eventually got used to it. Patrick spent the ride talking about how great their lives would be once Pete moved in with him.

“You could come to school with me,” Patrick said.

“I already know things,” Pete told him. “I had a tutor back when I was a little kid, remember?”

“Well, I’m sure there’s other stuff you could learn.”

“Is there anything important.”

“Uhh…maybe. But still, learning isn’t the only part of school! You should meet my friends, Joe and Andy. I’m sure you guys would get along.”

“Have you told them about me?”

“No. But still, they’re cool. You’ll like them.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“They will. And even if you guys don’t get along, you’ll always have me, okay?”

“Okay.” Pete smiled, half to himself.

Patrick’s house was massive. It was about what Pete had expected from the home of a company executive: a giant white-painted house with blue shutters, three floors, and a garden out front. There were concrete steps leading up to the big front door, and the inside of the house was just as impressive.

“Wow,” Pete managed. “You live here?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Where’s your room?” Pete asked.

Patrick lead Pete up a large wooden staircase with pink floral wallpaper and brick red carpet, down a hall with similar decor, and finally into one of the rooms. Patrick’s room.

Inside, the walls were painted baby blue, the carpet was soft and matched the walls, and there were posters on the wall for musicians Pete had heard of but never actually had the chance to listen to. There was also a shelf full of books, a television in the corner, a desk with a few pencils scattered on top of it, and a double bed that had sheets with little pictures of dinosaurs all over them. It looked like Pete’s old room, the one he’d lived in before he’d been moved to the glass cage.

“What do you think?” Patrick asked.

“I love it,” Pete replied.

“I’ve had it since I was a little kid. That’s why there’s still dinosaur sheets on the bed,” Patrick laughed.

“I like the dinosaur sheets!” Pete said.

“Whatever,” Patrick said with a shrug. “Anyway, you’ll probably be sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms. It’s just down the hall, I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t I sleep in your room?” Pete asked.

Patrick looked uncomfortable. “My dad probably wouldn’t like it,” he told Pete.

“He’s afraid I’m going to hurt you?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Of course, Pete couldn’t blame Patrick’s father for worrying. He looked at Patrick’s face, staring at the long, sewn-up gash that seemed to have swallowed his whole right eye. It occurred to him that Patrick would probably never be able to see out of that eye again. Pete had destroyed it for good.

“That’s understandable,” Pete said. “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

“Look, Pete, it’s okay! I forgive you. You can live with us now, you can grow up as a normal kid. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, but… I hurt you, okay? I never wanted to hurt anyone, ever, and that’s exactly what I did. I couldn’t control it. I tried to tear you apart. I destroyed one of your eyes. You can’t just fix that.”

“Okay, maybe I can’t fix the injury itself, but that’s okay! I’ll just tell people it was the neighbor’s dog or something. You can’t just feel guilty about this forever.”

“But how are you so okay with this? If someone did that to me I would be terrified of them.”

“Pete, I know you. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But I did!”

“Still. It was my fault, anyway. You’re not some kind of bloodthirsty monster like those people want me to think. You’re just a kid, like me. You make mistakes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“But… I could have killed you! Even if that was a mistake, wouldn’t it scare you?”

Patrick couldn’t really think of how to answer that. “I’m not scared of you, Pete,” he said. He knew it probably wouldn’t be enough to convince Pete, but he really didn’t want him to keep talking about this.

Patrick showed Pete the guest bedroom, where he would be staying. It wasn’t nearly as childish or fun-looking as Patrick’s bedroom, but it was nice enough. The walls were a happy shade of pale yellow, there was an empty shelf in the corner and a double bed with plain, sky-blue sheets, and a large window across from the door that overlooked the garden. There was also an end table next to the bed with a small lamp on it. Sure, it may not have been exactly the kind of room Pete would have chosen, but he figured he could enjoy it. It was cozy, and he’d never had a real window in his room before. He liked it.

“Welcome home,” Patrick said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Pete replied. He leapt onto the bed and lied down on it, staring up at the ceiling. It was so comfortable. He felt like he could just melt into the soft mattress. Patrick climbed into the bed and lied down next to him, which Pete thought was weird, but he just went along with it.

“I think you’re going to like it here,” Patrick told him.

“I think so too,” Pete smiled. He looked over at Patrick, whose head was resting on the pillow next to him. He smiled, and Patrick smiled back.

They had spaghetti for dinner that night. Pete had had spaghetti before, but he’d never had spaghetti that good. Maybe it just tasted so good because the only things he’d been eating over the past few weeks were oatmeal, mushy vegetables, and, well, other children. It was nice to eat something that didn’t make his stomach turn.

“Wow Pete, I didn’t know how much you loved spaghetti,” Patrick laughed. Pete had eaten an entire plate of spaghetti in around ten minutes.

“Neither did I,” Pete said.

After dinner, both of them got ready for bed. It was a school night, after all. Patrick lended Pete a pair of his own pajamas, since the blue pajamas Pete had been wearing for the past month were starting to smell. Pete put on the pajamas (a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white shirt), said goodnight to Patrick, then went to his room and crawled into bed. He fell asleep quickly and slept soundly for the first time in over a month.

Patrick woke him up early the next morning. The two of them ate breakfast-pancakes with maple syrup-and then hopped into Patrick’s father’s car. Patrick had his backpack sitting on his lap, and Pete wondered what he was going to do in school without school supplies.

“Just tag along with Patrick for today,” Patrick’s father told him. “The principal and I are still getting some things figured out, but until then you can share classes with him, alright?”

“Alright,” Pete said. Patrick grabbed his backpack, both of them got out of the car, and Pete followed Patrick to the front doors of the school.

The school was a large, intimidating building filled with long hallways packed with nervous students. It almost reminded Pete of the facility where he’d spent most of his life, with its long corridors and unmarked doors with mysterious rooms behind them. Pete stayed close to Patrick as they walked to their first class. He didn’t want to get lost.

When the two of them walked into the classroom, Pete expected people to notice him first. He was the new kid, so he figured everyone would be wondering where he came from and what his deal was. Instead, they all crowded around Patrick. Pete immediately realized why.

“Woah, Patrick, what happened to your face?” one of the other kids asked.

“I got attacked by the neighbor’s dog,” Patrick lied. “They had to give me like, forty stitches!” He traced the gash on his face with his finger for dramatic effect. The kids oohed and ahhed. Pete felt a weight lift off his chest. No one else would know that he had hurt Patrick. They didn’t know he was a monster.

Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good thing.

Pete sat next to Patrick in class. He tried his best to follow along with the lesson. It was something to do with math, and he understood some of it, but he figured he could just ask Patrick for help with it later. Or maybe it didn’t even matter if he understood it at all, considering he’d never use it again and there was no guarantee he’d even be able to keep staying with Patrick.

Patrick did wind up introducing Pete to his friends during lunch. Joe and Andy were really interesting. Andy had long, ginger hair and glasses; he was quiet, and he seemed to be a really good listener; he knew karate. Joe talked a lot more than Andy did, about everything from dinosaurs to teleportation to politics that Pete knew nothing about; he apparently had a cat that was also named Joe, and he knew how to skateboard.

“So what about you, Pete?” Joe asked. “Where are you from?”

Pete didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to tell his new friends the truth, but he couldn’t just not say anything at all or they would get suspicious.

“I used to live in this horrible orphanage,” Pete said. He was making everything up on the fly, hoping no one would ask any further questions. “Our rooms were basically cages, and they rarely let us out, and they fed us old vegetables and weird meat.”

“Woah, really?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” Pete replied. “Some of us even thought the meat they served us was human.”

“How’s it taste?” Joe asked.

“Dude…” Patrick interjected.

“Just asking. And besides, it might not even have been human meat. Just really weird chicken.”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Patrick told Pete.

“Okay,” Pete said. He didn’t want to answer the question anyway.

“That’s alright,” Joe told him. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s no problem,” Pete assured him.

The rest of the day was uneventful. It was just more of Pete sticking with Patrick and trying to follow along with whatever lesson was going on.

“So, what did you think of school?” Patrick asked Pete during the car ride home.

“It was alright,” Pete said. “I mean, maybe it would have been more interesting if I understood the lessons a little more, but for the most part it was okay.”

“Nice job on that story you told Joe and Andy.”

“Thanks. I kind of feel bad lying to them, though.”

“Don’t worry. None of that matters anymore. You’re just another kid now. You don’t have to worry about being a monster.”

“I do have to worry,” Pete said under his breath.

“What?” Patrick asked.

“I said thank you.”

“Oh! You’re welcome.”

Pete really did have to worry. If he had hurt Patrick before, there was no telling if he’d hurt someone again. He had no idea how Patrick could be so sure that Pete didn’t have to worry, considering he was the one currently missing an eye because of something Pete had done.

However, Pete could almost forget about what he’d done when he was at home. He and Patrick hung out in the living room, watching TV and eating chips while Patrick did his homework. It occurred to Pete that this was the life he should have been living from the very beginning: a comfortable house and an amazing friend and a relatively normal childhood. Pete felt like he had missed out. At least he had a chance to catch up on the childhood he’d missed out on, unlike the other kids back in that awful facility.

The next day, Pete and Patrick went back to school. Everything was normal at first. They went to class, Pete stayed close to Patrick, and the classes were fairly boring. Then, on the way to science, Pete and Patrick were stopped in the hallway by a big kid in an oversized t-shirt and worn-out gym shorts.

“Wow, Patrick. Nice face,” he said, cruel laughter in his voice.

“Fuck off,” Patrick grumbled.

“What was that?” The big kid shoved Patrick against a locker, pinning him there by his arms. Patrick didn’t panic. He held out his hand as far as it would go.

“Get away from me,” Patrick said calmly. He and Pete both awaited the moment when the bully would fly backwards and Patrick would be freed. Except it didn’t happen.

“How about I don’t?” The big kid laughed, keeping his grip tight on Patrick’s arms.

“I said… get… away,” Patrick repeated. Still nothing. Apparently his arms weren’t stretched out far enough to use his powers, and he was left helpless.

“No!” The bully snarled. He quickly reached up with one hand and punched Patrick in the face. Patrick had no time to react, much less take the opportunity to use his power.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Pete yelled. He actually considered for a moment whether or not it was a good idea to provoke this guy, but he figured protecting Patrick was worth it.

“Why should I listen to you?” He punched Patrick again. Pete was horrified. Then he realized he’d done the exact same thing. It made him sick to think he was just like this terrible boy, attacking someone as sweet as Patrick for hardly any reason at all.

“Because he’s my friend,” Pete said firmly.

“You’re friends with this freak?”

“He’s not a freak! And I say leave him alone!”

“Or what?”

“Or…” Pete didn’t really know what to say. He knew what he should do, he knew he had to protect Patrick, but would it really be worth it.

“That’s what I thought.” The bully punched Patrick again. Pete could see tears falling from Patrick’s good eye. He desperately wanted to do something to help. He had to. He had to save his friend.

He pushed out his claws.

“I said, leave my friend alone,” Pete said slowly.

The boy looked over at Pete. He blinked a few times, not really believing what he saw.

“No way are those things real!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“Oh, they’re real,” Patrick said. “And you do not want to get cut by them.”

Pete slowly moved towards Patrick and the other boy.

“So, are you going to let my friend go?”

“Get the fuck away from me with those things.”

“Only if you let go of Patrick.”

The bully finally released Patrick from his grip.

“Fine,” he said, backing away from Pete. “But I’m going to tell everyone about this. I’m gonna tell everyone what a freak you are!”

“Whatever,” Pete told him. “Not like they’ll believe you.”

Then the boy turned and ran away, leaving Pete and Patrick alone at last.

“Are you okay?” Pete asked, pushing his claws back in and running over to Patrick.

“Yeah, I’m fine. That happens to me a lot,” Patrick told him.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m an easy target or something.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Well, I can protect you now. I owe you at least that after what I did to your eye.”

“Thank you. That means a lot, you know?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“And I’ve got your back too, okay? I’ll do what I can, at least.”

“Thanks.”

“We should probably get to class now, huh?”

Pete nodded. They began walking down the hallway to the science classroom. On the way there, Patrick slowly reached out and held Pete’s hand. Pete looked over at him, confused.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “I’m just holding your hand. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Pete told him. “I was just wondering why.”

“Because I care about you, I guess? Sometimes you just need to hold someone’s hand, I guess.”

“Okay.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s hand a little more tightly, and Patrick smiled.

The two of them started holding hands all the time after that. Wherever they went, they usually went hand in hand. It just felt better that way.

Patrick’s dad wasn’t a huge fan of the hand-holding at first. That was clear to Pete and Patrick as soon as they got in the car on their way home from school. They had been holding hands as they walked out the doors of the school, and obviously Patrick’s father was not exactly partial to that.

“Why were you holding hands?” he asked. It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

“We just wanted to, okay?” Patrick said.

“Fine,” his father replied. “I’m sorry, I’m still not quite comfortable with you being so close to him.”

Patrick could sense that Pete was getting uncomfortable. “For the twentieth time, there’s nothing wrong with Pete,” he said firmly.

“Look, whatever you say, but if he does something dangerous again he has to go, you understand?”

“Yes,” Patrick said with a groan. He knew his father was just trying to protect him, but it was getting to be a bit much. Patrick loved Pete so much, and he wanted to be able to show that.

Then he remembered something.

“Hey, Pete, you know how I was talking about the school dance?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Pete replied. “What about it?”

“It’s this Friday,” Patrick said. “Do you want to go with me?”

“Like… as a date?”

“Sure.”

Pete glowed with happiness upon hearing that. “Of course!” he exclaimed. He leaned across the backseat of the car and hugged Patrick as best he could without taking off his seatbelt. “Does this mean we’re boyfriends now?”

“I guess so,” Patrick said, smiling. He did his best to hug Pete back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pete replied. It was the first time they’d actually both said that at the same time, even though it had been true all along. They rode the rest of the way home with huge smiles on their faces.

Patrick helped Pete pick out an outfit for the school dance. He went with a pale blue button-up and black dress pants, both of which had previously belonged to Patrick. Conveniently, Patrick happened to have very similar clothes in his own size, so they of course took the opportunity to wear matching outfits.

The days leading up to the dance were exciting. Pete and Patrick took every opportunity to brag to Joe and Andy about becoming boyfriends, and Joe and Andy congratulated them the first few times. No one ever accused Pete of being a monster, which was comforting on the one hand but Pete was also worried that someone was going to pull something at the dance and ruin his and Patrick’s first date. He didn’t let that fear ruin it for him, and when Friday finally did come, he was ecstatic.

Pete and Patrick put on their matching outfits the moment they got home from school, and then spent an hour sitting on the couch waiting for it to be time for the dance. Most of this time was spent with the two of them repeatedly saying “aren’t you excited”, “this is going to be so awesome”, and “I love you so much” over and over again. When they finally got in the car on the way to the dance, they were practically exploding with excitement.

The dance itself was unremarkable. It was held in the school gym, and there was generic pop music playing over the loudspeakers. Groups of kids stood all over the room, attempting to dance or just talking to each other. But Pete and Patrick weren’t expecting the dance to be spectacular. They were just happy to be on their first date together.

Finally a slow song came on, and Pete and Patrick immediately took the floor. Neither had ever danced before, but they’d seen plenty of people dancing in movies, so they figured it couldn’t be too hard. They joined hands, and carefully moved their feet along with the music, slowly singing back and forth. They stared into each other’s eyes as well as they could considering Patrick was missing one. Pete felt his face twist into a grin. He couldn’t help himself, he loved Patrick so much. All he had to think about was stepping along with Patrick and making sure his monster teeth didn’t show. Patrick mirrored his expression. Both of them smiled and danced as if nothing could tear them apart.

Then they heard a voice from across the gym floor.

“Aww, look! It’s Beauty and the Beast! Or, I mean, Ugly and the Beast.” This was followed by laughter that could only have come from a bunch of stuck-up teenage boys. Pete and Patrick looked at each other urgently, wondering what to do.

“Kiss him!” someone else shouted. “See if he turns into a normal human!”

Patrick was angry. All he wanted was for his first date with Pete to go well, and these assholes were trying to get in the way of that.

“You want me to kiss him, huh?” he shouted. “Watch this!”

He pulled Pete closer, interrupting their dance. Pete knew what was happening, and he leaned in towards Patrick. Patrick leaned in as well, and their lips met. For a moment Patrick was worried they’d get in trouble for PDA, but he didn’t care. It was worth it to get back at those losers. And, of course, to kiss Pete.

Pete had no idea kissing someone could be so amazing. Sure, he’d heard from just about everyone about how important first kisses were and how great it was to kiss someone. But this was something completely different than what he’d expected. He could feel Patrick’s face against his own, and his cheek occasionally brushed against the stitches on Patrick’s face. That was okay, though. All that mattered in that moment was the feeling of being so close to Patrick, of kissing Patrick, of being in love with Patrick.

The crowd of boys let out a series of grossed-out noises, and someone who was probably a teacher yelled at Pete and Patrick for PDA, as Patrick had anticipated. Still, they didn’t care.

“Let’s leave,” Pete suggested to Patrick. “I don’t want to hear them laugh at us. And I want to kiss you again.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Patrick said. The two of them made their way out the doors of the gym and then out of the school. They stood on the steps and kissed again. It wasn’t as long as their first kiss, but it was just as magical. There was still a good amount of time before Patrick’s father came to pick them up, so they just stayed there and watched the stars.

“Just out of curiosity, but did me kissing you get rid of your claws?” Patrick asked.

Pete held up his hand, easily pushing his claws out and then back in. “No,” he said sadly.

“That’s okay,” Patrick said with a shrug. “I don’t care.

“I know,” Pete replied. “That’s part of why I love you. You don’t care that I’m a monster.”

“You aren’t a monster, Pete. You’ve just got some really cool claws and stuff.”

“I guess so.” Pete smiled. “And you have telekinesis or something.”

“I was wondering when we were going to acknowledge that,” Patrick sighed.

“So did you really have no idea you could do that?” Pete asked.

“Yeah,” Patrick told him. “I suppose I was another one of that company’s experiments. Who knows, if my father wasn’t an executive at the company I could have wound up in one of those cages.”

“Maybe in another universe I’m the one breaking you out of that facility,” Pete laughed. Patrick laughed too.

They sat there and looked at the stars for a few more minutes before cars started flowing into the parking lot. It was time to leave.

“So, good first date?” Patrick asked in the car on the way home.

“Definitely,” Pete replied. “I’d definitely dance with you and kiss you again.”

“You know, we can do that anytime,” Patrick said.

“I know,” Pete told him. “But the dance made it special.”

“True,” Patrick agreed.

That night, Pete slept in the same bed as Patrick. They were in Patrick’s room, in the bed with the dinosaur sheets. It didn’t matter what Patrick’s father thought about it. Pete really did feel at home there, lying next to Patrick and watching his chest gently rise and fall with every breath. He loved Patrick, and nothing could ever change that.


End file.
